My childhood,

its in my fathers uppercase handwriting, that would be everywhere, reminding me he loved me, of my chores, of everything. it's the way a tomato vine smells that takes me back to my childhood home, memories of sitting in our backyard while my mother gathered vegetables from the garden, ice pops- frozen juice in plastic containers that were so much better than the store bought kind. it's visiting the pumpkin patch every year, straw getting into our jeans, the smell of hot apple cider, and the feeling of that crisp air biting at our rosy cheeks. it's homemade spaghetti sauce, meatballs simmering in the pot, thyme and oregano, crispy garlic bread that melted in your mouth when the butter was heated just so. it's hearing bruce springsteen, and elton john, wafting down and through through the house, the 8 track player alive and well in the family room, my mother dancing around while she cleaned, it's apple pie. it's spinach dip. it's pumpernickel bread. it's a hard roll with butter from glory's. it's the holidays and wandering through the attic, feeling so small amidst the big brown boxes. it's watching nickelodeon at my grandparents house, nanny bringing us cheese sandwiches on wonder bread. it's the big gray car we'd ride in, it's grandfathers friends and their hats, their jackets, their glasses. it's the jelly doughnut my he would buy from freeman's every morning- powdered sugar, that spongy cake, and gooey insides we devoured so quickly. it's dancing around on my parents bed to "crocodile rock," flashlights in hand, our make shift dance club seeming so magical to our small, small selves. it's the forts in the living room, jungle gym in the backyard, the big trees in the front. it's the sprinklers in the summer, it's going on walks in the woods, exploring and feeling like we were the only people around for miles. it's the clear, crisp mornings and the nights filled with lightning bugs. it's the library. it's being pulled around in a wagon, on the back on my mom's 10-speed, on my father's back. it's macaroni and cheese, it's tuna fish sandwiches at becky's. it's the smell of chlorine. it's the distinct feeling that everything was alright, the world was beautiful and everyone was good.

If you know me personally, you know what a family person I am. I feel lucky that I had a beautiful childhood full of happiness and laughter. It was almost idyllic in a way, and I constantly daydream about it and I am very, very thankful that I got to experience such an amazing upbringing. I know not everyone is in that boat, and many of my closest friends didn't experience a childhood like that at all. It makes me so excited to have children, and to be able to create memories like the ones I wrote about up there. It's funny because as I was writing that, I realized how much of my memory is tied to food. I wonder if everyone is that way...do you have vivid childhood memories attached to food? I was going to make that italicized portion much longer, but I realized that I could go on and on, with no end in sight. One thing reminded me of this thing, of that thing, and because I need to run to the gym, I had to just wrap it up.